


the kind of love—

by redbelles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, See Fic Notes, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22766311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbelles/pseuds/redbelles
Summary: —I've been dreaming of.“You love this, don’t you?” Still conversational, but there’s an edge to his voice now, like watching her fall to pieces beneath his hand is stripping away his composure. “I thought you might."Or: Rey learns something new about herself.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 42
Kudos: 303





	the kind of love—

**Author's Note:**

  * For [manbunjon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manbunjon/gifts).



“Ben,” she says, more petulantly than she’d like. “Hurry up.” 

It’s almost a whine; she’d be more ashamed if he hadn’t spent the whole evening teasing her. She had to keep her composure in front of the horde of guests at the charity dinner—not to mention his _mother_ —while he murmured absolute filth in her ear, that low deep voice telling her exactly what he planned to do to her once they got back to the hotel. 

He shoots her a look as he works the buttons of his dress shirt loose, fingers moving at a deliberate pace she’s almost positive is designed to torture her. She’s already naked, dress left in a heap on the floor so she can sprawl out across the bed, flushed and impatient, but he’s moving like they have all night. And they do, now that they’ve finally escaped the dinner, but she’s been wet for him for hours and it's killing her.

They could be making up for lost time, but instead, he’s fussing with his goddamn clothes. 

She whines again, and he just cocks a brow at her. Fine. She tries a different approach, running a teasing hand across her breasts, a fleeting touch, just barely enough to make her shiver. He stills, eyes going dark before he takes a deep breath and turns back to his task. 

“Come on,” she says, hand dipping lower now, but Ben seems to be enjoying her frustration. He’s like this sometimes, contrary just because he can be. Nine times out of ten, she doesn’t mind, but she’s too wound up for games tonight. 

“Almost there,” he says, giving her a slight smile. 

“Liar.”

The smile turns into a smirk, and she clenches around nothing. Abandoning any pretense of patience, she climbs down from the bed and presses into his space. He shudders at the feel of her tits against his chest, hands going still. She takes advantage of the distraction, tangling her fingers with his as she stretches up to kiss him. For all his teasing, he sinks into like he’s starving, lips plush and yielding against hers. She savors it for a moment and then _yanks._

Immediate carnage. Buttons go flying, pinging off the walls and skittering across the carpet. She regrets it a little bit—the shirt is a wreck, fraying and mostly buttonless—but it’s over and done with, and now she has miles of skin to touch.

“There,” she says, looking up at Ben’s gobsmacked face. “Much better.”

He makes an inarticulate noise, equal parts shocked and aroused. _Any second now_ , she thinks. He’s going to pick her up, maybe fling her on the bed for her temerity, and _do something_ about the terrible ache between her legs. 

At least, that’s what she was expecting. Instead, Ben steps back. He shrugs out of the remains of his shirt and starts to fold it, movements as slow and deliberate as before. 

“You know,” he says conversationally, like she didn’t just wreck a perfectly good dress shirt. “Before that little stunt, I was going to fuck you until you screamed.”

One forlorn button gives up and drops to the floor.

“You were taking too long.”

Ben continues as if she hasn’t said anything. “But now… now I think something else is in order.” He sets the shirt aside and closes the distance between them, hands coming to rest on her hips. The heavy pressure feels delicious, but he makes no move to keep going. She wriggles against him. He’s shockingly hard, tenting the front of his slacks. It’s not like him to wait when he’s wound up like this. 

Every now and then he decides to unravel her; he’ll bury his face in her cunt and eat her out until she’s sobbing, half out of her mind and begging him to fuck her, but this is different. He’s just— waiting. It’s driving her crazy. 

She shifts her hips again, trying to grind against him. He's having none of it. His grip tightens, and she shivers, delighted. He’s always so damn careful, but she doesn’t mind the occasional bruise. If he ever gets around to fucking her, maybe tonight he’ll leave some. 

“Ben,” she starts, but he cuts her off. 

“You’re going to pay for that shirt,” he says blithely, squeezing her hips with every syllable, palms huge and warm against her skin. 

_Finally._

“Then what are you waiting for?” she all but whines, rubbing against him as best she can. He puts a stop to it almost as soon as she starts, moving her like she weighs nothing. God, she has to be dripping by now. “C’mon Ben, please, get to the sexual favors already—”

He hoists her effortlessly into his arms and strides toward the bed, dropping down onto the mattress with something less than his usual grace. Rey’s still valiantly attempting to grind against him when he does something with his hands and suddenly she’s sprawled facedown across his lap, regretting that she didn’t manage to divest him of his pants, too. 

He’s solid and warm beneath her, strong and thickly muscled, the insistent press of his erection nudging against her as he grunts and—

Thought vanishes. Heat sparks along her skin, bright and nearly painful. It pulls a shout from her, loud and shocked, and then another as the same wash of heat and pain rolls over her again. 

Ben’s hand is on her ass, resting against her skin like a brand, huge and hot and possessive. He just fucking spanked her. 

“As I said, Rey,” and oh, oh that _voice._ “You’re going to pay for that shirt.” The words are low and warm. He strokes his fingers over her skin, a featherlight touch that turns the statement into a question: _do you want this?_

“Oh fuck,” she gasps out, “yes—”

He takes her at her word. His palm comes down on one cheek, hard, and then the other. She moans, loud and wanton, heat blooming deep in her belly. He falls into a rhythm, slow and deliberate. Every smack of his hand against her skin is obscenely loud; the hotel room is huge and modern and it _echoes._ She can hear the sharp crack of his hand against her skin, hear herself panting, breathless as she waits for the next strike. 

She squirms, writhing desperately against his thigh, and holy shit,his slacks are soaked. Each hit feels like it’s precisely placed, calculated to make her burn. Either Ben is some sort of spanking savant or she’s just fucking _easy_ for it, for the heavy weight of his palm against her ass, proprietary and absolutely sublime. She wanted bruises, but god, _god,_ this is so much better. It feels so good she can hardly stand it, and then he starts talking. 

“You love this, don’t you?” Still conversational, but there’s an edge to his voice now, like watching her fall to pieces beneath his hand is stripping away his composure. “I thought you might, but I underestimated you. Forget the shirt, I’ll never be able to wear these pants again. You’ve soaked them right though; I could have them cleaned a hundred times and they’d still smell like you, like your gorgeous wet cunt—”

Her skin is burning beneath his strikes now. The bright spark of pain gets a little deeper with each hit. It’s incredible. Her orgasm is starting to build, searing through her veins, and her mouth falls open on a sob, a desperate sound that pulls a groan from him in answer. 

She’s beyond thought now; she needs to come. “Please,” she begs. It comes out as a strangled moan. “Please, please,” over and over again, the only word she can remember. She thinks she might be crying. 

“All right, sweetheart.” His voice is thick. “Come for me.” And she does, she _is—_ then his legs shift and his hand comes down one last time, a soft slap against her cunt, her _clit_ —

She _wails_.

He keeps his fingers there, possessive and tender, cupping her as her orgasm burns through her like wildfire. He waits until she’s stopped shaking before he finally pulls away, and then he draws her up off his lap, moving her carefully to the bed. The sheets are satiny and cool against her cheek. She feels like she’s floating. Dimly, she can hear him fumbling with his belt, working himself and cursing softly before he groans, a low, winded sound, and stripes her lower back with come. 

“Fuck, Rey.” He sounds _wrecked;_ she wishes she could see what she looks like. 

It’s his turn to pant, harsh and rough as he tries to regain his equilibrium. Eventually, his breathing evens out, and he pads away. 

Her skin prickles in the chill air, stinging a little bit. She drifts for a while. Ben comes back, tossing something on the bed. He wipes her clean with a damp washcloth, careful and tender, and then his hands are back on her ass, rubbing lotion in soothing circles into her skin. It feels good. The cream is cold but not painfully so, like he took a minute to warm it between his hands before he let it touch her. He’s always so good to her.

She slurs something to that effect, and he huffs softly, bending forward press a kiss to the hinge of her jaw. Eyes still closed, she turns blindly toward him, chasing his lips. She can feel him smiling against her mouth, a gentle kiss that turns lush and deep before he finally pulls back. There’s a thunk as he sets the lotion on the nightstand, and then he eases the sheet out from beneath her. She burrows into his warmth as he settles down next to her and draws the sheet carefully over them both. It floats down softly over her skin, light enough that it doesn’t hurt. 

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.” His voice is slow and fond. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

When she finally blinks awake, squinting a little bit in the warm glow of early morning sun, Ben is already awake. He’s studying her, his gaze dark and thoughtful as he takes in the wild tangle of her hair, the faint smile on her lips, the blush she can feel creeping across her cheeks. 

Her face isn’t the only thing that feels hot; still lying on her stomach with only the pressure of the sheet against her skin, her ass is tender and warm, almost like she has a mild sunburn. She wonders if there are palmprints or if he spanked her enough that she’s just red all over. The thought makes her squirm, hips hitching beneath the sheet. 

It draws a smile out of him, but there’s a hint of concern lurking in his expression.

“So, what's the verdict? Good?”

She can’t believe he’s asking her that, except she totally can. Fucked out and nearly asleep when she said it last night, she was right nonetheless: Ben is always good to her. He’s making sure she’s okay. 

“Yeah,” she says. Her voice is low and raspy. God, how much did she scream? “So good.”

He smiles again. “Then it seems my tux died a noble death.”

She snorts, then sobers. “It was good for you, too, right?” She remembers him losing it after her fucking— out of body orgasm, but maybe it was a one-time thing for him. “I don’t have to ruin another shirt to get you to do that again?”

He whisks the sheet off, flinging it to the side. He’s hard, cock flushed and leaking the tip. She bites her lip against a moan at the sight, hips shifting in an instinctive bid for friction. He jacks himself slowly, once, twice, and then slides his hand across her lower back, coming to rest just above the curve of her ass, right where the skin is warm and tingly. 

“God, Rey,” he says. “You can destroy as much of my wardrobe as you want if you let me do that again.”

“Oh good,” she says faintly, and then he’s sitting up, hauling her into his arms. She’s still wet and pliant, and he hilts himself in her in one long delicious slide. She’s so worked up that she’s almost embarrassed, but it’s clear he feels the same. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and fucks his hips up into hers, slow and filthy. His hands keep stroking up and down her back, dipping down to the top of her ass, teasing just enough to make her sigh and moan. Her own hands are buried in his hair, tugging gently. 

The room is echoing again, filled with quiet sighs and the wet sound of skin on skin. Light streams in through the huge windows, painting the world gold. When she tips over into orgasm, her blood turns to sunlight to match, bright and sparkling. Ben follows her a few thrusts later and collapses back against the headboard, arms still tight around her. 

Rey listens to his heartbeat as it slows, warm and sated and utterly content. She’ll have to move soon, but for now, everything is perfect. 

“You know,” she says, “I have a feeling you’re going to regret giving me carte blanche to wreck your clothes. You’ll run out of things to wear and then you won’t be able to leave the house. You’ll have to spend all day ravishing me.”

“A shame,” he says solemnly. When she looks up, he’s fighting a grin. “I can’t wait.”

She stretches up to kiss him, morning breath be damned. 

“Neither can I.”

**Author's Note:**

> **under-negotiated kink context: ben spanks rey without talking to her about it first; she's super into it and it turns out just fine, but there is minimal discussion as it's happening**
> 
> ANYWORM: happy (slightly belated) birthday, kira! i love you lots ♥
> 
> title from dinner & diatribes by hozier 
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/redbelles) and [tumblr](https://redbelles.tumblr.com)
> 
> feedback is love!


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